


until the suns become stars

by kissmeinnewyork



Series: our choice [4]
Category: Bodyguard (TV 2018)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Future Fic, Kissing, Romance, WOW IM TRASH, and a sort of proposal, in Italy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-22
Updated: 2018-09-22
Packaged: 2019-07-15 16:03:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16066562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kissmeinnewyork/pseuds/kissmeinnewyork
Summary: It's been a year since the bomb that almost killed them both, so it's only logical that David takes Julia to Italy. (david, julia, and a sort of proposal.)





	until the suns become stars

**Author's Note:**

> I am a massive pile of steaming trash. I wrote this before all our dreams inevitably DIE in the finale tomorrow evening. There is literally no plot. Just pointless, pointless fluff. ENJOY OUR SWEET CHILDREN ACTUALLY BEING HAPPY IN LOVE LOSERS

David wakes to the warmth of the Italian sun and a soft breeze blowing through the open veranda door. The calico curtains flutter gently, washing into the room like the waves easing in and out down by the coast. With a contented sigh, he stretches out his arms, shifting position in the bed. He’s less content when he discovers that the other half of the mattress is empty.

“Julia?” he says, voice croaky from the best sleep he’s had in ages. He almost panics when she’s nowhere to be seen—an occupational hazard from an occupation he hasn’t had in over a year—but he calms when he realises where he is, how far away from home they are. There’s no-one out to get either of them here.

“ _Out here_ ,” she calls, her voice floating in from outside. Her silhouette appears as the curtains rise and fall, teasing him to come closer.

 David rubs his eyes, pulls a t-shirt on over his bare chest. The tiled floor is oddly cool against his feet as he pads out onto the veranda. Julia is sat at the edge of the pool, wrapped in one of his shirts, sunglasses perched on her forehead.

“Good morning,” David says, looking down with his arms folded over his chest. She smiles back up at him before concentrating on the impossibly blue skyline ahead of them—it’s unlike anything he’s ever seen, like the sea and the sky have merged together, an abyss at the edge of the world tinctured slightly by early morning sunlight. “You been out here long?”

“About an hour,” she replies, “Woke up when the sun was beginning to rise. Seemed a shame to miss it.”

“You should’ve woken me.”

“You were sleeping. Peacefully, for once. I wasn’t going to miss that, either.”

David sits down next to her, letting their feet tangle together in the pool. He leans across to kiss her, hand cupping her cheek. It’s sweet and gentle and without urgency for once and, actually, for a moment, their relationship feels _normal._ She has no meetings to go to. He’s not throwing himself in front of bullets. It’s refreshing in a way he’s never experienced since they first started sleeping together, not since Vicky.

Maybe it’s what they’ve always needed.

“Thank you for this, David,” she says, like she’s read his mind. Her eyes dart back to the horizon. “I haven’t been on holiday in such a long time.”

He neglects to mention the fact that convincing her to take the time off was more difficult and time-consuming than getting Charlie to eat anything green, but he’s just glad she’s here. He’d somehow managed to get her on a plane and convinced her to leave her laptop at home for seven uninterrupted days of recuperation on the Italian coast—the country _probably_ wouldn’t crash and burn left in the hands of the temporary Home Sec, although they wouldn’t know for certain until they got back.

He’d just wanted her out of London for the—well, the anniversary of the day they both nearly died.

“You deserve this,” he murmurs quietly, kissing her shoulder. “You’re never off duty.”

Julia scoffs a laugh. “That’s a bit hypocritical.”

“I became a sworn hypocrite the first time I kissed you, so I’m afraid that comment wasn’t as scathing as you intended it to be.”

“Damn,” Julia curses, but there’s a grin pulling at the corners of her mouth. It’s too irresistible not to kiss. “You’ve got me.”

David brushes a hair away from her face, hands skimming her cheek. “And you’ve got me all to yourself. In Portofino. For six whole days.”

“I do, don’t I?” Julia hums. She pulls her sunglasses down over her eyes. “And you’re going to start by getting me coffee.”

David laughs at the cheek of it, nudging her with his shoulder. “Am I now?”

“Yes, you are,” Julia confirms, deadly serious, “And then we’re going to explore, before shagging furiously on that expensive and very comfortable bed.”

(Oh, well, that’s the kind of demand that is impossible to decline. He finds the coffee, and some pastries, but the exploring is… _delayed_ , somewhat.)

-x-

They spend the rest of the afternoon being a couple in Portofino, dipping in and out of colourful little boutique shops and kissing on benches like teenagers. David buys souvenirs for Ella and Charlie, bracelets made of sea-glass and messily-painted porcelain figurines. Julia acquires a ridiculous sunhat for free because the old man behind the counter says she’s beautiful. It’s the kind of comment that would make her mad in any other situation—he stares quite prominently at her cleavage—but she just smiles and takes the gift, blaming Italy for how aggressively anti-feminist she’s being. She rolls her eyes when David looks at her, surprised.

(He buys her ice cream and it drips down their fingers, and she laughs when he stumbles like a child trying to lick the chocolate off the cone. When he kisses her she tastes like strawberries and sea salt and Italy.)

Later on, as the setting sun casts the sky pink and orange, they sit on a table by the sea covered with a parasol. Despite the weather, the beach is completely empty—the sand is grey, spattered with seashells. David keeps some in his pocket for Ella. He keeps some for himself, too, in case this memory is the best everything gets.

A waiter brings them a bottle of red and pours it generously into both glasses. David raises his own and Julia smirks, clinking hers against it.

“What are we toasting?” she asks, incredulous, one eyebrow raised.

David takes a sip, shrugs his shoulder. The bitter taste of mahogany settles on her tongue. “Whatever you want, love.”

“Okay…” Julia says, trailing off. She squints at the distance, probably at the boat bobbing on the tip of a wave, ready to fall off the edge of the world. “A toast to now. To Italy. To you, for convincing me to come. To your ex-boss.”

David screws up his features, bemused. “Why the hell are we toasting Lorraine Craddock?”

“Because…” Julia tilts her head, “Without her, I’d have never met you.”

Oh. Well, she’s not wrong, he supposes. He doesn’t thank Lorraine Craddock for a lot of things, but maybe he can thank her for this. Even if this is far from the situation she would’ve asked for. He smiles softly, leaning back in his chair. She’s haloed in evening sunlight, chin cupped in her palm, watching as the wine swirls round her glass. Julia Montague looks just as beautiful in Italy as she does in London.

“I know that coming here, now, wasn’t by accident. By the way,” Julia says, looking him in the eyes. “I’m not stupid, David. I know what the date is. As if I could forget.”

David’s hands reach across the table, holding her palms in his own. Her nails are painted burgundy, her skin smattered with freckles enhanced by the sun. “I know, and I don’t what you to think that I thought you couldn’t cope to be in London—“

“No, no, it’s not that,” Julia cuts in, “No, really. I wasn’t even sure if I should mention it, because I know that day was as painful for you as it was for me. But I’m not good with elephants in rooms, so, I just… This is one of the most thoughtful things someone has ever done for me.” She laughs, looking down at their intertwined hands. “I can cope. I _would have_ coped, if the situation commanded it. But I’m not completely made of steel, and to not have to be reminded of it on the news or Twitter was…”

“Freeing?” David suggests, mainly because it has felt the exact same for him. She nods slowly.

“Freeing,” she repeats, “Among other things. Although the fear that my deputy may accidentally agree to bring back the death penalty or something has been haunting me consistently for the past twenty-four hours.”

“I’m sure you’ll correct all the inevitable errors when you get back.”

Julia hums, sips her wine, looking over at him along the edge of her glass. “Let’s not think about that right now. I’m trying to lock work away in a little box at the back of my head. Emphasis on the verb _trying._ ”

“That’s fine by me,” David agrees, “But does that mean you don’t want me to call you _Home Secretary_ when we’re in bed later? Or is that power tactic not applicable when you’re off duty?”

“No,” Julia says, smirking, “That’s definitely allowed.”

“Very good,” David grins, “ _Ma’am._ ”

-x-

It’s midnight and the air is still warm on the veranda, so David eases himself into the pool, the water refreshingly cool on his bones. He dives under for a moment—ears blocked, eyes open as he scans the empty blue, the mosaic pattern on the floor. When he rises he sees Julia standing in the doorway in a silk robe, arms crossed over her chest. She’s looking at him like she always does when she has something to say.

“I was just thinking…” she begins dangerously, so David narrows his eyes and perches on the edge of the pool, combing his hair back. “This whole holiday has felt suspiciously honeymoon-y.”

“My honeymoon was in the Highlands at my grandparent’s house and it was absolutely pissing it down. The whole week.”

Julia shakes her head. “Mine was in the Maldives. Meant to be three weeks but ended up being less than two because Roger was called back to Number Ten.” She sits down beside him. “Maybe it hasn’t been like a honeymoon, then. Or—perhaps this is what honeymoons _should_ be.”

“Is this you dropping a hint?” David asks, because there’s no in-between with Julia. She’s either unbelievably coy or totally blunt. The last thing he wants is to miss something. “Do you want to get married?”

“Do you?”

David looks down at his feet in the water for a moment, a kaleidoscope of memories from the last twelve years or so flooding back. “Julia, when Vicky and I got married we were barely out of school. Then we had the kids, then I went on tour, and then we broke up. And now she’s probably going to marry someone else. Honestly…I don’t think I want to go through that again. I especially don’t want to go through the bit that happens when it all goes wrong again.” When he looks up, her expression is unreadable. “What about you? Do you…?”

“Oh, God no,” Julia says fiercely. David almost collapses with relief. “It might have been the relationship, but marriage did not suit me the first time. I didn’t…like being tied to a man legally, taking his name. It always felt to me that Roger somehow had the upper hand over me and I resented him for it. I wouldn’t want to end up resenting you.”

“I guess that calls for one thing,” David says to Julia’s confusion. He turns, earnest look on his face, holding her hands tightly. “Julia Montague, will you do me the honour of not marrying me?”

Julia whacks him on the arm and he laughs, the only sound in the air other than the waves crashing against the shoreline in the distance. Once his laughter dies down he wraps an arm around her shoulder, pressing a kiss against her forehead. “I really hate you. But yes. It would be my pleasure to not marry you, David Budd.”

“I’m glad we’ve come to an agreement.”

When she smiles back at him, he thinks he’s glad for a lot of things. He’s glad all the shitty things happened, the shooter in Thornton Circus and grabbing her blood-soaked hand, the desperate, haunting nights that followed. He’s glad that they got a second chance after the bomb that should have killed them both. He's glad that he dragged her all the way to Italy. He’s glad he just feels whole after years of feeling empty.

It’s enough. It’s enough.


End file.
